


Nursery

by stardropdream



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:05:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2830901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first moment that Porthos begins to suspect - and doesn't quite realize that's what he's doing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nursery

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jlarinda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jlarinda/gifts).



> This was originally going to be part of a larger story that I ended up abandoning for a while - and now with spoilers of season 2 being revealed, I know that this story would quickly become an AU/semi-AU, so I decided to post it simply as a vague drabble-thing. I marked it Porthos/Aramis if only because it is vaguely. 
> 
> Written for the prompt from [JL](http://jlarinda.tumblr.com/) for Aramis to sing to the new prince.

Aramis is singing softly – barely enough for his voice to drift across the room. It’s sweltering and Porthos is sweating through his uniform. Athos on the other side of the doorway doesn’t seem much better, and d’Artagnan standing at the end of the hall looks as if he’s going to collapse. The only person who doesn’t appear distressed by the sweltering heat of summer in Paris is Aramis, who’s taken up post inside of the young prince’s room and is currently humming to the sleeping baby. His song is light and soft, and Porthos can detect the faint traces of Spanish lyrics he doesn’t recognize. 

He closes his eyes to the words, tries to focus on them because it’s better that then the heat, better to focus on that then wishing for something to happen to distract him from his boredom – because he would never wish for any harm to come to a child, especially not in front of Aramis, who has always been too open and too honest when it comes to children. It isn’t a surprise to Porthos that Aramis should feel so intensely about the young prince, as well. 

Still, he glances around the corner of the doorframe towards where Aramis circles around the baby’s crib, fingertips tracing along the wooden structure, his eyes soft, looking only at the baby and seeming to not notice a single other thing in the world – all the while singing that song, his eyes soft, his lips quirked into a sad, intimate smile that Porthos doesn’t quite remember seeing before, at least not like this. 

He’s frowning when he looks away and catches Athos’ eyes – Athos, who’s watching him like a hawk, as if waiting for some reaction. Porthos merely shrugs, helpless, unsure what it is that Athos is looking for – and Athos looks away, staring straight ahead, back rigid. It’s an odd reaction and Porthos doesn’t know what to make of it. 

He turns again and watches Aramis, watches his face as he sings to their future king. 

Hours later, once they’re done for the evening – once Aramis is persuaded to leave – Porthos walks beside him, enough that their shoulders bump briefly. Aramis looks up at him, and smiles faintly. 

“You alright?” Porthos asks and it somehow feels entirely inadequate. 

Aramis continues to smile at him, but it brittles up, expression crumbling only at the eyes before he’s clamping it down again – and it’s only because it’s Porthos, and because it’s Aramis, that he even realizes the fracture happened.

“Yes,” Aramis says in a wisp of breath, and Porthos knows he’s lying.

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on my [tumblr](http://stardropdream.tumblr.com/), as always.


End file.
